


Live and Uncut

by nihilBliss



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Canon Non-Binary Character, Drug Use, Exhibitionism, Felching, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Other, POV Canon Character, POV Queer Character, POV Second Person, Pheromones, Scents & Smells, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Work, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 01:46:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19219099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilBliss/pseuds/nihilBliss
Summary: It's something of an open secret that Cirava Hermod will show off their body and masturbate on webcam for money a few times a cycle. But this time, they've enlisted a very special guest for a show: You!Are you a bad enough penis-owning nonbinary person to huff Cirava's pheromones and show off your junk for a planet of aliens?





	Live and Uncut

**Author's Note:**

> For MBLPNS

You step out of Cirava's closet with another outfit of your own making. You're in a bold combination: a neon pink g-string that barely covers your package underneath day-glow teal vinyl chaps. Up top, you're bare but for a leather strap that holds a big metal ring like a necklace. You feel like a stripper mixed with a disposable cup from the 90s. And you're pretty sure it's a cock ring you have dangling from your neck.

“You have killer style, as usual,” Cirava says. “Kinda understated, though. Sure you don’t want anything else?”

Their collection of alien fetish-wear flashes through your mind again, much of it designed to interact with parts you don’t have. Their “special closet” serves as one more reminder of how you’re on an alien planet surrounded by aliens and about to guest star on an alien’s webcam sex show. Back home, you always had the itch to show off your parts, but you always found reasons not to. Here, there’s nothing stopping you. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

“You there, dude?” Cirava says. You blink and shake off your thoughts.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I’m good,” you say. “Maybe just a little nervous.”

“Lol that’s real. You wanna vape before we get started? I always do.”

Ah, the joys of ass drugs. What won’t they solve? You take a hit from the weird drug bug, maybe a little bigger than you need, and let yourself drift. Cirava puffs it, then takes your hand and guides you up stairs. Especially given the colors of their house, it’s all very dreamlike as the door shuts and latches behind them. Can’t have anyone barging in while you’re doing a show, after all.

“You good, bud?” they ask, crawling onto their concupiscent platform or copulation cushion or whatever trolls call a bed. You nod. You’re very good, also high. But it's chill. It's all super chill.

"Let's make some porn," you say. They snort, flash you a thumbs up, and strip down. You like how that bright orange fishnet body suit frames their body, makes their ass look curvy and downright juicy. They're wearing what looks like a jock strap. Heavy fabric covers their bulge and sheath, but their nook peeks out at the bottom. You feel yourself grow excited as they go live.

As Cirava does their intro shtick, you look around the room. It’s small and plain, flat purple walls and no furniture other than the bed and the computer stand at one end. You lay on the bed, relaxing into your high, and stare up at the ceiling. It’s lined with anchor points; you wonder just how freaky Cirava’s shows get.

“And I promised you all a special guest today, so let’s bring them the fuck on,” they say, motioning you over. You crawl into frame and sit on your ankles. “It’s the alien! The one and only, lol. Say hi, bud!”

You wave awkwardly as Cirava puts their arm around your shoulder.

“Hey folks,” you say, a little uncertain. “Happy to be here.”

It’s strange, seeing yourself dressed like this on screen, watching the comments zooming by at the bottom of the screen. Seeing Cirava nibble their lip next to you as they sniff your neck.

"You smell great," they say. They plant a soft kiss on your neck, and you go all tingly. Their lips leave a lingering sensation of groundedness as the rest of you floats further away. "Really great."

"Thanks," you say. You're pretty sweaty from walking here, and you feel kinda gross. But the idea seemed weirder when Cirava brought it up while you were planning this. Now it’s just fine. Another thing that’s happening to your elevated personage, like the kisses Cirava is planting on your neck and jawline.

Actually, all of this attention Cirava is lavishing on you feels really nice. That’s not quite it; it makes you feel sexy. You look like a painting on screen, under this moody purple lighting. And the g-string only looks better as your tumid cock fills and stretches it. You turn your head, and you catch Cirava’s lips. For as much as you’re cheating your body out to feed the camera, your intimacy with them is real.

They reach down and caress your groin. Your breath catches. Where they touch you becomes all of you, like they’re a magnet and you’re filled with iron filings. You’re usually a quiet lover, but the drug makes it easy to groan and put on a performance.

“You ready?” Cirava breaks the kiss to whisper to you. You nod, and they stuff their face under your arm, sniffing loudly.

“Fuck,” they manage, and you can’t tell if that thinness their voice has taken on is real or acted up. They take another deep breath of your musk and sigh, rubbing their groin with one hand, yours with the other. You shiver; is your scent really turning them on like this? The inelegant way they grope at you suggests it’s not all acting.

They spread your knees out and move their nose from armpit to crotch, and they all but snort the crease of your thigh. They whine, high-pitched, somewhere deep in their throat, somewhere you’re pretty sure doesn’t work voluntarily. You can’t really call your own gasp voluntary either, though, as you rest your hand on their head.

“You like that, ‘rava?” you ask, not even having to play up your seductive voice.

“Fuck yeah lol,” they say before lifting your thong and burying their nose in your pubes for a better whiff. You stare at the monitor, and you see yellow pooling at the edge of their jock, staining the fabric. Biting your lip, you revel in the image.

“Smelling an alien really does turn you on,” you say. “I must be kinda intoxicating, huh?”

Cirava pulls away and looks up at you, dead serious and dead sexy.

“You have no fucking idea,” they say. They slip your cock out of the top of your underwear and lap at the head, just enough to get it damp, just enough to take a sniff. It tickles, and you fall over onto your side to get away from it.

“Oh what, lol, you got a problem?” they ask, playful. Then they straddle your face and pin you down, sniffing your dick again and laughing. You laugh too; you can’t help it. And when you suck air, you smell something strong, musky. Something really, really good.

Cirava’s jock hangs a few inches above your face. You lean up and take a tentative sniff. And you feel fresh arousal hit you like a Mack truck with a grudge. You groan, deep and throaty this time, almost animalistic, and you bury your nose in the fabric.

“Nnnnn!” Cirava groans, arching into you. You’re pretty sure you’re poking them right in the nook with your nose. That would explain why their musk is so strong, so goddamn excellent. You lap at the fabric as you huff, burying yourself in the sensation. It’s getting you high all over again.

“Never said you were into that,” they say. “I like it lol.”

“Uh-huh…” you manage. You slide their jock to the side and bury your face in their nook, huffing and licking. They yelp, then run their lips and tongue along your underwear, worshipping your package and inhaling your musk. Soon, their throat emits a rising purr, which runs into your hips.

Then, Cirava’s smell changes, and you feel drunk. It’s not sweaty and musty anymore. It’s sour, citric, and it clings to the back of your sinuses. Your head swirls, and your crotch feels like it’s on fire. You’ve never been this hard before; it hurts.

“Fuck… Cirava, what just…” When they lick your cock again, you squeal, and you suck air. Everything gets more intense.

“Bulge ‘mones,” they say. “Different from nook ‘mones.”

That would explain the wriggling against your chin.

“It hurts,” you say. “Cock hurts… So fucking… need to come.”

Cirava moves off of you, and you see two yellow tentacles twisting and curling together above the top of their jock. Your hands shoot to your crotch, and you start jerking off. You’re distantly aware this is a bunch of trolls’ first time seeing alien penis.

“Is my stink hitting you that hard?”

You nod. Your hand feels nice, but it’s not nearly enough.

“More…” you manage. Cirava grins.

“Lmao! Alright, spread your legs,” they say. You comply, and they slip between, sliding their jock off. They look amazing, twin bulges wriggling, tips weaving their way into the fishnets. And then, Cirava slides their jock over your face, and you lose it.

You’re swimming in their scent, the musk of their nook and the lemon-lime of their bulge. Then and there, you peak, shooting globs of white onto your face and chest, definitely hitting that jock. But you don’t go soft. The burn, the ache, doesn’t abate.

“Damn lmao,” they say. “You still game to bottom?”

You try to say please. It’s hard, so you just sort of whine and nod, enthusiastic.

“Don’t worry lol. I got you,” You feel something warm and wet against your asshole, and your body seizes and quakes. All sense of time and place drifts away. On the monitor, you see “In Chat: 25,523.” And in the mirrored stream, you see yourself, spread and pressed, and you don’t think you’ve ever looked so good.

Cirava's twin bulges wriggle their way into you, thick and slick, stretching you out. You gasp and groan. It's almost too much and not nearly enough.

"Fuck my nook," you say. You're pretty comfortable calling your parts whatever, but nook feels right at the moment.

"You want me to call it that? Wanna call it your nook like I'm gonna breed you? Make you my good little bucket?"

You nod, whining. You know enough about troll sex to know how hot that image is. If they fill you up, you're going to stink of bulge for nights. You're sure you won't be able to keep your prick down until it's gone. So you hold the jock to your face and let the rush take you.

"Fill me…"

Cirava ruts their hips against yours and rests against you, working their bulges around and letting them wriggle as deep as they can send them. They rock their hips back and forth, grinding against your hole.

“Your nook is so tight, lmao,” they say, and you rock your hips against them, milking yourself. They reach down and grab your dick, jerking slowly. “You want me to make you messy?”

“Fill me like a good bucket,” you say. They nod and start thrusting against you. And when their bulge brushes your prostate, you arch your back, and precum dribbles onto your belly.

“Found your alien shame globe,” Cirava says. One bulge coils around the other, making a thick, wriggling ball over your tender spot. You hold their jock tight to your mouth, which doesn’t make the pleasure any easier to take without crying out. Their musk is all you can smell or taste at this point. It clings like spray paint, marking you as a total slut for troll junk. You’re not sure you’d have it any other way.

You cry out again, and Cirava jerks you through another orgasm, watery cum once more painting you.

“Fuck that’s hot,” they say. They claw your g-string free and hold it to their nose, huffing it like a rag soaked in ether. They groan, so deep you feel it more than hear it. Of course, you’re still writhing and crying out, all but smothering yourself with their underwear. It’s getting to be more than you can really handle, even in your crotch-stoned state. You tap their arm, guiding it away from your cock.

“You need to stop?” they whisper; you weren’t even aware they were near your head.

“You close?” you manage. They nod. “Then finish.”

Another nod. Then, they huff your underwear again and let their tentacles wriggle like mad inside of you.

“This ass is so fucking amazing!” they say, overdramatic. “I can’t fucking hold… fuck!”

You feel a hell of a lot of something hot and wet pumping into you. Maybe you should have tapped out, you think. But it’s so nice, so warm. You smell something new, something like ozone, and your mind starts to clear. The fullness grounds you as the rest of you catches up, and you’re vaguely aware that your shriveling cock is dribbling cum onto your belly.

A few more thrusts, and Cirava turns around to smile at the camera. You fling their jock aside as they say a few words to their viewers, the typical “smash that subscribe button” bit. And when the little red light goes off and the stream mirror turns black, Cirava’s whole personality takes a 180.

“Holy fuck, dude, are you feeling okay?” They’ve pulled out of you and are already cradling you against their chest. You nod, exhausted, but lucid. Even the bug ass has worn off.

“I’m a little full, but yeah,” you say. “Pretty great.”

Cirava sighs.

“You kinda scared me at the end,” they say, stroking your hair. “Don’t push yourself just to put on a show. This is my bag. I can roll and make it look good if you gotta tap.”

You nod, grateful. They hug you close.

“Wanna clean me up?” you ask. To your surprise, you’re still a little frisky after all that. They raise one eyebrow, then the other, then sink both. Oh, their look says. Oh, is that what you want? Oh my, you’re insatiable. Something like that. They climb back between your legs either way, and they start licking at your lemon-glazed hole. You relax and let Cirava eat you out, no audience, no pressure to perform. They're quiet now, and so are you. It's different, and you kind of love it. You sigh and relax into the gentle tickling pleasure.

"Let's do this again sometime," you say.

"LMAO"


End file.
